College Life With Derek
by Lcsaf
Summary: Random looks at how College life would have been for Casey and Derek. Mostly Dasey fluff.
1. College Life With Derek

**DISCLAIMER:** IF YOU KNOW IT, I DON'T OWN IT!

**A/N:** Special thanks to **shyesplease**, for looking this over and giving me the courage to post this bit of fluff.

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><p>They can't remember what the fight was about, or who even started it this time, but it basically ends when in a fit of insanity (as he claims), he does the one thing guaranteed to shut her harping up.<p>

Yeah, that's right: Derek Venturi kisses Keener Casey McDonald, his step sister.

She looks shocked when he releases her, their breaths the only noise in the room for one very long minute before they come together again, gently, exploring and learning until the spark between them actually catches and things go aflame. It doesn't occur to either of them until later (basically because she's writhing against him and then later, _under_ him, in passion) that it's a good thing they're in Kingston, roughly 430 kilometres from where they're supposed to be part of the same blended family.

Here at Queen's they are two separate people who can come together (yeah, yeah, they get the pun) and simply be (and they come together a lot-puns included).

They don't date. Not _really_. They go out together. Sometimes he pays (*gasp!* without being nagged!), sometimes she does (feminism means equality right? He's totally down with the girl getting the bill. Go gender equality). She cooks for him (for *_**them**_*) in the kitchenette of his dorm's hall. She's a semester behind him from deferment when she spent her time doing Mr. Blue's show in New York, but despite that, they still have two classes together and she makes him study with her (and rewards him generously when he actually puts in the effort). Even though she's way over qualified as a professional dancer now, she still joins the dance team and he goes to other sports events once or twice, just to watch them perform (funny enough she never actually asked him to come. She got used to not knowing anyone in the audience in New York and she's been doing better about not seeming clingy). They eat lunch together only twice a week, due to scheduling, but they don't ignore each other in passing in the quad.

It works for them. He still pranks her from time to time (he pulls a Parent-Trap inspired one, leaving her dorm room covered in twine and honey-carefully avoiding her roommate's stuff), he won't say why, but he likes the snap of her eyes and the flush of her cheeks when she rails on him. Everyone knows who he is, not just because Venturi is on the hockey team, but also because "Der-_ek_!" can be heard all over the campus when she gets mad. (They become an in-school joke in the student paper in one of those "**10 Ways You Know You Go to Queen's**" lists.) He doesn't however, appear to hook-up with any other girl on campus. Not even at parties.

They are quite a pair. Even when they fight, it's common knowledge that Venturi's claim on McDonald is to be undisputed (largely in part to the Gaels enforcing this fact on any dude seen trying to chat up Casey in anything but a friendly manner) and Derek has turned down girls rather rudely if they don't get a hint (he's getting a reputation to be downright **mean** when he's moody). (He still kisses her to shut her up.)

They don't really talk about the way they spend most of their free time with each other, but learn where each scar came from (yes, she has a few as well) and debate body modifications (a navel piercing would look hot and he thought about getting a tattoo, but he doesn't even like needles). Wearing his shirts aren't a big deal anymore or maybe they are, because he likes seeing her in them and she catches herself sniffing and grinning when she's in them.

It's them. They slowly learn to adapt and to compromise, because fitting together feels _**so**_ good.


	2. Rumour Has It

**DISCLAIMER:** IF LWD were actually mine, Casey and Derek would still be wreaking havoc upon each other and then making _up_. Alas...

**A/N:** Much thanks to **_sheyesplease_** for the second pair of eyes and stamp of approval. Apologies if it seems a bit OOC. I'm making it up as I go.

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><p><em>In another Universe it might go like this:<em>

Despite the teasing and the not-so-empty threats, Casey and Derek really _do_ end up staying out of each other's business as much as possible at Queen's (pranks and anything family-related don't count). It's a plan that's actually works for them, mostly because college is a lot harder and more involved than high school. It's also been made abundantly clear to Derek that maintaining good marks as well as his skills on the ice are the only way to keep his scholarship, so he doesn't have time to mess with Casey too much.

So it isn't until the middle of sophomore fall semester at Queen's that Casey notices something strange about the way she's beginning to get looked at on campus.

She has a feeling this has to do with Derek, which is crazy because she barely sees him since he's always at the rink, his fraternity, or messing around with his video editing (he's actually interested in his media class). She hasn't really talked to him since the last home game a week ago, but she thought they'd been on good terms, recently. (Time and lack of a confined shared living space has done them good and Derek's been less of a jerk now that they don't vie for the same bathroom for most of the year.)

Still, as much as she hates to admit it, Casey knows if it's something at Queen's that isn't coursework, and it has to do with her, it's because of Derek. Even with her own extra-curriculars and the willful distance they've established between them, Casey's still socially known mostly in association through her step-brother.

Few know their relation. Sam does, because he's made it into Queen's too and he's been with them since high school, and Casey's RA knows, only because Casey herself had to explain why she was dragging in a very drunk Derek way past visiting hours. Casey thinks that Derek's hockey Coach knows, too, because Derek called her after his first practice and breezily explained that he was putting her down as his emergency contact on his medical, since she's closest and she knew all his medical information anyways. (Privately, she thought that was actually a very mature and intelligent move on his part-very practical-but the tone of his voice made her grit her teeth, when he made it sound like she was just supposed to go along with it. Asking, she had pointed out, would have been the polite thing to do. Derek had merely laughed and said "_When have I ever done **polite**, Spacey?_" before hanging up.)

When she finally gets sick of the appraising looks and sideways glances, Casey figures it's time to find out what's up. Derek has become impossible to track down, so she turns to Plan B. Except Sam's been avoiding her too, and that is _so_ not like him. And she knows he's avoiding her, because he hasn't responded to the three voicemails she left him and won't look at her in their English Writing class.

She ultimately catches him walking alone from one of his other classes back to his dorm and demands an explanation.

He squirms under her harsh look, but, there are perks to have dated her step-brother's best friend and being able to bend to her will is definitely one of the them, so all she has to do is wait him out until eventually he caves "So, the guys after practice are talking, yanno? Locker room talk," he begins, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

Unsure what this has to do with the looks she's been getting, slowly Casey nods, she's familiar with the situation her ex-boyfriend is presenting at least, and spent twenty minutes chewing Derek out when she found out he engaged in that disgusting Neanderthal behaviour.

"And Cory starts going on about how he's..." Sam blushes and fidgets. "He gets kinda X-rated talking about...you."

Stunned at this revelation, she pauses, trying to process this information. "Cory Long?" she asks, just to be sure, referring to the one of the goalies on the team. At Sam's careful nod, her confusion grows. "But I barely know him! I think I've said 'hi' to him, like twice." He seemed nice enough, if a little full of himself. She kind of got the impression that he even got on Derek's nerves, but she just figured it was because he was an upperclassman, and as much as Derek lauded himself, he hated braggarts in others.

Sam shrugs. "Well...anyways...he was saying..._stuff_ and Derek got really quiet and told him to knock it off...and Cory didn't, just to piss D off, I think. And uhh...D kindalaidintohim."

"What was that?" she asks, not sure she's hearing right.

The blond boy shies back, clearly not wanting to repeat himself.

"'Laid into him', like verbal flaying?" Casey presses, knowing the answer already with a sinking stomach.

He shifts uneasily. "Less 'verbal'," he admits.

"Where is he?" she growls.

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><p>Casey can't help the gasp that escapes her when Derek finally opens his door.<p>

His face is a mess of various colours and he carries himself carefully, as though in lingering pain. "What?" he greets dully when he finally speaks.

"Oh my God, Derek," she breathes, moving closer, one hand covering her mouth, the other reaching for his face.

He instinctively moves back. Of course. They don't touch except when he's slinging an arm around her shoulders to annoy her, or pulling her hair as they pass each other or any of the other hundreds of times they poke one another to get attention or push each other away...but **serious** touching? It's not something they do. So Casey lets her hand drop as she examines his face closely.

"Are you crazy!?" she cries.

Derek rolls his eyes and turns away to lay back down on his bed, picking up an icepack and resettling it back against the shiner around his right eye.

"Derek, you could have gotten seriously hurt! And what if the coach kicked you off the team? You'd lose your scholarship."

"Thanks for the concern," he drawls sarcastically. "I'm fine, really."

She scoffs and crosses her arms. "Of course you are, you're still being ornery."

Her step-brother levels her with a glare. "Why are you here?"

Gingerly she sits down on the edge of his bed. "Sam told me what happened. Why'd you do it?"

"I'm not gonna let people go around talking about you like that."

"Derek, you could've gotten kicked off the team!"

Derek falls suspiciously silent at that and suddenly finds the floor far more interesting. Casey narrows her eyes and moves closer. "Derek...?" she prods.

"I'm benched for the next game," he admits quietly.

She sucks in a startled breath at the admission, half ready to chastise him some more, but Derek beats her to the punch, cutting her short when his gaze abruptly snap back to her. "You didn't hear what he was saying, Case," he defends harshly. His brown eyes burn with anger. "He was going on like you were some kinda masochistic _whore_."

Her breath catches at that.

"I'll let you ruin your own rep with Klutzilla," he continues. "But you can't expect me to just sit back and do nothing while someone's going around with malicious slander like that."

Casey very wisely does not mention his vocabulary in the little speech of his. They aren't in high school where Derek can hide his intelligence anymore and besides, that's really not the point. The fact that he admits to standing up for her is. On paper, this could very well be her perfect feel-good-family-moment, but there is way too much charge in the air at Derek's statement for it to be familial. Especially now that she can see the damage it costed him. Derek isn't vain, as such, but there's no denying he's well aware of his looks. She'd expect him to take a hit to his face for Marti, but not for her. It's strangely flattering.

After a long moment, she sighs. "Thanks, Der."

Derek only nods and Casey quietly lets herself out.

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><p>She goes to the next practice, sitting up high in the nose-bleeds, where it's easier to be unnoticed. Of course, she brings homework to distract her, because even if it is just practice, hockey is both violent and boring to her.<p>

She waits until Derek makes his way off the ice and to the locker rooms, still visibly angry by the way his shoulders are hunched and his lack of interest in being around the team. As soon as he disappears, she makes her move, quickly descending the steps from the seats to the box where the rest of the team is picking up their things. Cory among them, joking with some of his team mates.

Taking a deep breath, Casey calls out to him. "Hi, Cory," she greets flatly in a very carrying fashion.

Cory pauses, quickly registering her, and her obvious displeasure. "Umm, Casey...hi."

"I just thought I'd come by to see how pleased you must be with yourself...you know, for spewing what has to be some of the largest oral fiction ever and nearly getting Derek kicked off the team."

"Oral?" he repeats, glancing back at several teammates that have lingered to watch the show.

"**Lies**, Cory. Wishful fantasies about...**_ugh_**, me and you." She glares at him frostily. "Which, thank God, will never EVER happen, because if you knew anything about me - which obviously you DON'T since we've only ever said like a total of four words to each other - then you would know that not only do I find male posturing and slander against girls to be completely Neathanderthal-like and disgusting, but I've had it up to _here_ with boys talking about me behind my back like I was some stupid piece of meat! You're a pig and I plan to let everyone know just what a jerk you are."

She watches with satisfaction as her words drain the colour from his face before whirling around and marching out of there.

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><p>Derek does not look happy when she opens her dorm room door to his incessant knocking. "I don't need you standing up for me," are the first words out of his mouth.<p>

Casey doesn't even try to play it off like she doesn't know what he's talking about. Instead she just favours him with a soft look. "Then why do you get to do it for me?"

Surprisingly, he seems to deflate at that, and gives no answer, so cautiously, she continues.

"I'm not trying to get into your business, Der, I'm really not. But if you've got my back, can't I have yours?"

The stare off is once again charged as they take measure of the other, before the corner of Derek's lip quirks in a shadow of his infamous smirk.

"See ya around, Spacey," is all he says before turning and sauntering away. The only concession he'll give.

Casey closes the door after watching him go, a small smile on her face.

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><p><em><strong>Please Review.<strong>_


	3. Back at the Homestead

**DISCLAIMER:** Life With Derek and all it entails does not belong to me.

**A/N:** Just a slice of Life Without Derek (and Casey), for those back at home.

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><p>Lizzie pushed her chicken around on her plate, watching as the food turned colder and stiffer. Her stomach turned a little.<p>

"Lizzie?" her mom quizzed sounding a little worried. She cocked her head to the side. "Are you alright? You're not eating."

Liz shook her head. "No...I'm not..." she took a deep breath. "I think I wanna go vegetarian."

The response at the table was imediate. "**_WHAT_**?!"

Marti scrunched her nose. "What's vegetarian?"

"It's a person who doesn't eat meat," the older girl explained, pointedly ignoring the flabbergasted looks Nora and George were giving her.

"So...does that mean I can have your chicken?" Ed asked eagerly, leaning over his plate.

"Edwin!" their parents cried.

George turned to her. "Lizzie, are you sure?"

"Liz, this is a really big deal," Nora insisted. "Taking out a whole food group can _REALLY_ affect your overall health."

Maybe it was the coward's way, but the teen took on the easier of the two of them first. "I _am_ sure," she told George. Steeling herself, she looked over to her mother. "And I know what I'm doing, Mom. I've researched it. Millions of vegetarians live healthy, active lifestyles. There's nothing wrong with it."

Nora shifted in her seat, looking a little uncomfortable. "Liz, I don't know..."

Pulling a little Venturi was a bit underhanded, but watching Derek all those years certainly taught her a way around her mom's hesitance when she really wanted something. "Mom," she began. "What are you gonna do if I don't want to eat meat: force it down my throat?"

"I!...No! Of course not!" the older woman floundered while Ed and Marti snickered at her. Finally she sighed heavily. "I'm just worried that you could make yourself really ill." She peered carefully at her daughter. "This isn't some sort of mental body-issue diet thing is it?"

Lizzie scrunched her nose. "Mom..."

"No, I think that's a fair question," George piped up. "You're not just wanting to go vegetarian because of the way you think you need to look, are you?" he asked, looking intently at her. Lizzie recognized that look. He used it when he was actually being George Venturi the Lawyer and not just George her step-dad.

Okay, so maybe she might want to drop a couple of pounds, but that was really just wanting to be fitter, since she wasn't doing so much active sports as she was actively supporting environmental issues. But Lizzie had the good sense to keep that to herself, not only because she knew it wouldn't help her case, but also because she didn't want Marti to grow up thinking those things about herself. Lizzie was well aware the stock other girls her age put into being model thin, and she felt blessed that neither Casey nor she had really had much to worry about in that department, gifted as they were with their mother's genes and self esteem.

Taking in a calming breath, she looked her step-father in the eye and answered. "I want to go vegetarian, because I can't in good conscience promote animal rights and earth preservation **_and_** protection and still eat meat."

After the longest second of scrutiny she'd ever been subjected to, George's gaze moved past Lizzie and over to his wife. "Nora?"

She sighed. "I suppose we can try it," she conceded grudgingly, only barely audible over Lizzie's squeal of glee. She frowned sternly at the blonde. "But if it looks like you're not getting enough nutrients or you're getting ill, back on the meat, missy."

"Okay!" Lizzie agrees readily, enthusiastic that her argument worked. Score one for the Cause!

"So does that mean I can have your chicken?" Ed repeated hopefully.


	4. A Morning After Approach

**DISCLAIMER: **If you think for one second that I own Derek or Casey, you need to go talk to Guidance Counselor Paul.

**A/N:** This one is once again, inspired by a .gif on **_shyesplease_**'s Tumblr, of Casey and Derek jostling over the sink as they brush their teeth. Thanks to her, again, for the second set of eyes.

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><p><em>Her head is <em>_**pounding**_, the rays of light that have somehow gotten past her crusty eyelids are stabbing her retinas like pointy spears and for one blessed moment, all she has to deal with is the most nauseating, foul taste in her mouth before her brain starts putting together the pieces of her situation. Casey whimpers and tries to roll over or at least suffocate herself with the pillow, but her arms are too heavy and her body aches.

She doesn't want to remember the events that happened that lead her here to this...this being Derek's dorm room floor (which is not carpeted, but at least he has an area rug). She doesn't want to recall last night at all...the drama of high school seems so small compared to...well, she doesn't want to think about it. She's heartsick and she has a hangover and all she wants to do is lay on the floor and crumble away...

Unfortunately, that isn't going to happen as the opens with a bang and the horrible light and smells and sound all grow stronger and larger and make everything a million times worse.

"Up and at 'em, Space-Case!"

Derek's back from his early morning hockey practice, slinging his gear and pads on the bed and making such an awful racket.

Casey groans as her headache intensifies by infinity. Her stomach is roiling now as her senses process the aroma of men's cologne, dirty laundry and unwashed bodies. Derek hasn't showered after practice yet.

"Hey, now, none of that. You puked enough for like, _three_ frat boys last night."

"I don't wanna remember last night," she complains. Or at least, that's what she means to say. Her throat is raw and scratchy and everything is such an effort, even talking, so it out more like "Uh unna 'memmer 'astnight."

She isn't looking so she doesn't see the way he stills once he's translated her mumbling, mouth tightening and eyes going dark. She does notice, however, when he rips the blanket off of her, casually readjusting the trashcan closer to her head with his foot.

"Come on, Case. Get up," he says in something closer to his normal tone, though it still feels like he's too loud for Casey. He bustles around the room, grabbing stuff while she struggles to sit up and lean weakly over the trashcan. When she feels like she can breathe through the worst of her nausea, a half full bottle of water appears in her line of vision and she swipes at it gratefully, only missing it once. She's not sure if Derek's trying to take pity on her by only pulling it back partially before letting her have it or if she's just too weak and dizzy to grab it correctly on her first try, but she's really too tired to care. She sips and swishes carefully like he's taught her before and does her best to neatly and gently spit into the lined can. What she manages is closer to a drool.

When she's able to squint blearily in his direction, Derek's face thankfully only displays his normal annoying smirk and he offers her a hand up. "Come on," he reiterates. "I've got to get a shower, and you..." he eyes her with obvious amusement. "You need to wash your face before you scare the rest of my floor."

She'd glare if she had any more energy, but she takes his hand and allows him to haul her up gently, waiting to get her sudden vertigo under control before he herds her out of the room and down the hall. It's only after he pushes her into the bathroom that Casey realizes that she and Derek are occupying the infamous co-ed showers. The ones Casey feels are highly inappropriate and Derek...well, he's Derek, and that's all that really needs to be said on that for it to make the point.

Once it registers in her brain, she hunches in on herself, hangover not quite forgotten, but momentarily pushed down the list of priorities. She's only wearing a very large school t-shirt (something that is neither in Derek's or Chris'-his roommate-size) and under that, only her underwear..._lingerie-pretty and lacey and just a little bit naughty for..._**NO! STOP. REMEMBERING!**

"Derek!" she hisses (_slurs_). "I can't-"

She swears that she can literally hear the sound of his eyes rolling in his head, and that's what cuts her off as he steers her to the furthest sink, right in front of what has to be (to Casey) the brightest mirror known to man. _Pleasedonthurlpleasedonthurlpleasedonthurl_ (her brain is too tired to use a longer PC term).

"No one is in here, Spacey," he replies patiently. Derek plops down a small pile of things in the sink before her: a flannel, a face towel, his own face wash, toothpaste and deodorant, with floss. "Watch these for me," he instructs haughtily, before heading to the showers.

She is never going to admit the way she watches the muscles of his back play as he strips off his jersey and the bottoms just before he steps into the shower. Instead she focuses on the bundle that actually contain not just Derek's toothbrush, but a fresh one wrapped in plastic. She hurries to wash her face, not even bothering to look at herself in the mirror before she does. She washes twice before the bathroom door opens to admit three guys who pause at the sight of an unfamiliar girl in the corner.

"Hey," one of them greets belatedly, in a suggestive tone of voice.

"Hi," Casey replies wanly.

Derek chooses that time to yank back the curtain to his shower, stepping out with only a towel wrapped his hips, while scrubbing at his wet hair with another. He barely glances at the newcomers before striding to Casey, bodily crowding her further into the corner, effectively cutting her off from the rest of the room. "Shove over, Space," he orders.

She still feels something found on the bottom of Edwin's shoe, but she's absurdly grateful for the familiar routine of jockeying over the mirror and the sink with Derek that she lets him hog most of the space as they both finish their morning ablutions. For whatever else he is, Derek's always been safe to and for her and she's glad for the excuse not to interact with anyone else just yet.

Once they get back to his room, Derek tosses her his monkey shirt and a pair of sweats and directs her to Chris' side of the room to change. And it doesn't hit her until she's changed that someone has taken a laundry marker to the back of the school t-shirt to read **VENTURI** in very large bold letters...and she's been seen publicly wearing it...

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><p><strong>AN 2:** Several of you have admitted to enjoying this little fun project. If there's any type of scenario that you think might be good fodder for Queen's life for our favourite pair, please don't hesitate to let me know. And please, **PLEASE REVIEW!**


	5. Simply More or Less

**DISCLAIMER: **If I'd be owning, I wouldn't be moaning...about the lack of LDWA

**A/N:** This one came out of left field right after **_travelingwishes_ **left me a lovely review, despite the fact it has absolutely nothing to do with much. So, I do apologize if it seems a bit OOC. **_shyesplease_ **seemed to think it was okay for what it was, so tell me what you think, dear readers.

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><p>Out of all the possible scenarios that could possibly happen at their time together at Queen's, Derek and Casey can both safely say that they <strong><em>never<em> **saw her becoming the hockey team's unofficial mascot. And yet, she has spent more time in or around the boys' locker room-since that miraculous last minute goal during the last game of Derek's freshman year, that magically turned her into his good luck charm-than she has spent anywhere else on campus, bar the library.

That's probably why she doesn't really blink at the variously states of undressed young men who call out in cheerful greeting as she trudges through the changing area back to the toilets and sinks in her own workout clothes and settles into what's considered 'Spacey's Space'. The far sink in the corner doesn't have good water pressure, because it's actually the handicap sink, but it's large enough for two people to share if they take turns and she and Derek have their bathroom routine down pat and no one really bothers them over here. Being a Senior member of the team has its perks.

Derek's showering off practice and Casey takes the opportunity to dump her small duffle down and uses the sink to wash her face and brush her teeth while waiting on him, her mind going through the day's schedule. Dance practice ran a little long this morning and she doesn't want to fall behind, they have a hectic week. She smells his particular brand of soap and shampoo half a second before seeing him turn the corner in the mirror and joining her at the sink, still dripping and toweling his hair. She's learned to ignore his bare torso, she's surrounded by near naked boys on a daily basis for God's sake.

"What's on tap?" he greets as he reaches for his toothbrush.

Casey ducks beneath his elbow and pulls out the week's carefully highlighted schedule, protected by a plastic sleeve to keep from getting wet, and sets it on the sink for Derek to see. She got smart about waterproofing Sophomore year after somehow becoming his part time secretary during the time Derek practically had to drag her into the locker room with him just to talk time tables. Their relationship has definitely changed over the years.

"You've got Media this morning. Did you manage to finish your presentation last night?" she asks between flossing.

Derek had spent all of last night working on a project for this class, putting the finishing touches on it-he claimed. Casey called it fussing.

"Yeah, but I don't have to present until next class. Alphabetical last names. You said your Chick Lit class was cancelled today. You gonna study? We've got that Stats test before lunch," he pointed out.

Casey wrinkles her nose at the reminder. "I need to work on my thesis."

"You need to pass this class with an A-minus if you wanna graduate with Magna Cum Laude," her step-brother insisted, pointing his foamy toothbrush in her direction. Casey may have the higher GPA of the two, and a double major, but Derek is actually the more mathematically inclined of the two of them. And to be perfectly honest, she'd be hopelessly floundering the course with a C or so if it wasn't for him. "You're gonna wig out too much if you think about it. Come on, I'll skip the presents and we'll cram."

"Aren't those peer reviewed? Der-ek!"

He rolls his eyes. "Case, it'll be_ fine_. I'll BS with my prof about staying over late from practice for some reason." While managing to somehow turn into a slightly nicer human being than he was in high school, Derek still retains much of his Derek-ness.

"Yo, Case! Trivia at eight tonight at Benny's! You and D in?" One of the team members calls out to the step-siblings.

Casey hesitates, glancing at Derek, who only offers a shrug after spitting and rinsing. "I'm free. Fifty bucks goes to the winning team. Surely all that keening has to be good for somethin'," he says.

"There's supposed to be a poetry-reading in the student centre tonight at seven-thirty," Casey tells him.

Derek looks at her like she should know better. "You're really gonna pass up an opportunity to make some money just to go to listen to some bad fresh/soph poems about feelings?"

She tosses a glare his way. "Some of the professors read, too!"

"Fine," Derek insists in a tone that irritates her on principle, reaching for the floss. "More for me." He turns his head. "Spacey's out!" he informs the room at large, receiving several boos in return and smirks at Casey's narrowed eyes. When he's done at the sink, they pack their stuff up and Casey trails behind him to his locker, keeping her eyes firmly on him. "You cooking tonight?" he tosses over his shoulder.

She shakes her head. "I don't really have enough to do anything with. We need to go shopping. Not tomorrow, you're busy all day AND you've got a meeting with your advisor at one, so don't forget that." She cocks her head. "Should you really be going out, tonight?"

"Don't. Case," Derek says firmly as he rolls on his deodorant and grabs a shirt to pull on. While she's been good for his GPA, by staying on him about his classes, Derek drew the line at his extra-curriculars. Casey wasn't his mother and she wasn't in charge of his social calendar...that much...

She rolls her eyes. "Fine, whatever. Supper at six-thirty in the caf?" They usually eat the meal together when they can.

"Sure," Derek agrees. "Lunch?"

Casey shakes her head and hefts her stuff. "I'll grab something and work on my thesis, then."

"Stats study?" he asks, a little surprised that he's managed to convince her that easily to go along with one of his schemes.

She nudges him with a small smile. "_I'm_ studying. _**You're**_ going to class." With that she makes her way out of the locker room.

Derek absolutely does _**not**_ watch her stride out of the room like she's in charge, instead of finishing getting dressed. It just happens to be coincidence that as soon as the door shuts behind her, Derek tells the room that "Casey's in!"

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><p><strong><em>Please Review.<em>**


	6. Money Maker

**DISCLAIMER:** Derek and Casey don't belong to me. Life With Derek doesn't belong to me. Queen's doesn't belong to me. I got, nothin', really.

**A/N:** Based on personal experience...and the fact that I think as they get older, I think Casey and Derek start to surprise each other in a good way. As always, thanks to **_sheyesplease_** for the second set of eyes.

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><p>It's a typical Tuesday night that has Derek due over at Casey's dorm for tutoring and take-out. Tutoring for Casey, that is...the take-out's for both of them, but on Casey's dime as payment to Derek who is helping her through their Intermediate Micro-Ec course. Casey may be double majoring in Economics, but Derek has always been the more mathematically inclined of the two of them, and while he's still obnoxious about the fact, at least he's grown a sense of decency to not be outrageous in his demands in his return for his help. Losing food credits and her hard earned cash to feeding Derek's still growing, monster-sized appetite is something she'll happily do to keep her grades up.<p>

Casey's reviewing a document on her laptop when the door opens to reveal her step-brother, slightly damp from him post-hockey-practice shower and a bag of their favourite Chinese take-out in his hand. Casey can smell her Ma-Po Tofu and Derek's spicy order from her spot on the small futon and her mouth begins to water while her stomach growls. She skipped lunch in favour of working on a paper. She feels like Pavlov's dogs as she immediately rises to wash her hands and pull out dishes and napkins and silverware-neither she nor Derek are really any good with chopsticks. By the time she's got things out, Derek has already taken her spot on the futon, and forgone table niceties in favour of simply eating, no...devouring the contents of one of his boxes (Szechuan beef by the looks of it), staring avidly at her computer screen.

For a second, horror strikes her, because Casey knows she left the document open, but her stomach has made a more pressing case for attention and to be honest, she's kinda tired at hiding it from everyone. Uni has mellowed her out, as Derek often pointed, and really? She's sort of looking forward to sharing this with him, if only for the amusement factor.

"Case, are you writing...tv porn?" Derek's concerted tone reaches her ears as she digs in to her tofu and broccoli. She smiles at both the wonderful flavours that burst on her tongue and the very wary expression on Derek's face as his eyes jump from the screen in front of him to his step-sister.

"_**No**_," she assures him, once she swallows her first mouthful (God, this stuff is delicious!). "I'm editing it."

Derek looks dazed. "_Editing_..." he repeats hesitantly, as if she's just announced that she's going to shave her head and join a cult.

Sighing, Casey turns to her mini fridge and pulls out a couple of bottles of water and joins him on the futon. "Editing fanfiction," she clarifies, placing one bottle in front of him.

He still has that bamboozled look on his face and Casey's starting to enjoy it. It isn't often she can get to surprise him like this. "I do it for money, Der..." she assures him. Because, no way is she reading this kind of deplorable rubbish for fun. In fact, this particular piece kind of hurts her English-major soul to read. It's terrible on all accounts, which is why she's having to edit it, heavily.

"Waitaminute, waitaminute!" he cries, setting his meal down and turning to look at her fully as she continues to enjoy her own dinner. "You edit porn stories..." he begins, waving a finger back and forth between her and the laptop.

"I edit stories based on well-known, well-loved, pre-established characters, in different situations: for a monetary price," Casey clarifies. She's practiced that particular response enough times in the mirror that she's able to say to him with a straight face, but she won't admit how long that actually took.

"Which includes porn..." Derek adds, looking slightly nauseated at this point.

If he throws anything up, she's not letting him have whatever else he ordered tonight. She's tight on money this week, and even if she manages to get this particular pieces she's been working on, done before Wednesday night, she's keeping his order for her own leftovers.

"Sometimes," she agrees.

"What the hell do you even know about sex?" he demands. Casey fights to roll her eyes at that ridiculous statement, before he continues. "No, don't answer that!"

"It's just editing work, Der...and it _**pays**_," she tells him. "Besides, it's a good use of my English-major skills."

"You use your English skills on this?" He gestures to the screen, a look of mild disgust on his face.

To be fair though, '_thrusting_', '_quivering_' '_oaken staff_', and '_sopping snatch_' should never, ever, **EVER** be in any sort of published works, let alone in one sentence.

"Not everything is a good thing to edit, but this is really not my typical clientele," she soothes. "Besides, I'd rather not subject anyone to this kind of thing, if at all possible. It's an affront to the printed word."

"It's weird..." Derek agrees. He shifts his gaze back to her. "You don't write this crap, do you?"

She huffs out a laugh with a shake of her head. "No. I don't have time and I really have a better handle on writing than this author does...seriously '_silken core_'?" She feels justified in his wince.

"Why put yourself though editing it, though?" he asks a little seriously.

They do this now: having halfway decent, normal conversations, sometimes. Casey likes it because she knows that the only other people who he's managed to do that with are Edwin, Lizzy and Marti-and maybe George. Derek has always has a mask in place unless it's someone he knows he can't really bs against, and as annoying as he can be, she loves that they've gotten a little closer, just talking and him letting her in.

So it's honest truth she gives him. "For the money, Der." She shrugs one shoulder and gives him a half smile. "Feeding you isn't cheap, and it really DOES give me a chance to hone my skills for my English major. Who knows? Maybe one day I'll be an editor of a publishing house and I'll have to read over some really crazy things, that I don't personally like, but I've got to put that aside and do my best to help the other people who reach out to me." She lifts the other shoulder. "Might as well get used to it."

She lets him process that while she eats and after a few moments of silence, Derek starts to relax, reaching for his own meal again.

"So how much money are we talking here?"

She offers him another shrug. "Eight dollars a chapter, usually. If it's longer or I have to heavily edit, then I'll charge ten."

"And people really pay you for that?" He doesn't say it unkindly, Casey's aware that he's still befuddled about the whole thing.

She nods. "Yep." Pride is evident in her voice, which comes from the knowledge that she knows she's that good. Not just anyone can make money doing what she does, and she knows a large amount of her ability to be successful in this endeavor relies on her keener qualities in explicit research and obsession to get every tiny detail just right.

Derek's scrolling through the fic, now, taking note of all her notations and highlights. He stops at a blue section she's marked. "What's with this one?"

She leans closer to double check the section he's referring to. "I wasn't sure about the wording there," she admits. "Technically, that's a good response to the other character's previous statement, but..."

"...that's not the way this guy would say it," Derek finishes. He puts his beef down and starts typing away.

"Hey!" Casey starts.

"Calm down, Spacey. I'm just making adjustments." Because no way in the world does Derek Venturi say the word 'helping' in relation to her. When he leans back, he shifts the laptop over to her so she can see what he wrote in red. Surprisingly, his comments are more in line with the character's speech pattern. At her impressed look he smirks as he reaches for his food again. "I watch the show, too."

Fair enough. Quickly saving the new changes to the document, she closes the laptop and they pull out their notes the Econ class for their study session.

Two weeks later, Casey shoots him an email with an attached document and a single line in the body of the email. _Guess who wants another edit? _When her phone rings, she answers to the sound of Derek's hysterical laughter.

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	7. College Life Without Derek

**DISCLAIMER:** I TOTALLY OWN LIFE WITH DEREK!...ignore those men in the white coats... (I don't actually own LWD).

**A/N: **So, yanno how the main summery of this little project is "Mostly Dasey fluff"? This one isn't fluffy. As always my thanks to **_sheyesplease_** for the second set of eyes.

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><p>"I love you, too. G'night, Smarts." Derek rang off and leaned back in his desk chair with a sigh, absently chewing the end cap of his pen and refocused his attention back to the computer screen where he was in the middle of editing his latest project for his Media class. The last twenty minutes had been filled with Marti, Edwin and Lizzie's excited chatter about life back home.<p>

Ed and Lizzie had teamed up in their Geography class to give a report so awesome, they were apparently being invited to give it again in front of the school, at the next PTA meeting. Marti was gonna be in a school play and had gotten much encouragement and several tips from both the fam, and Casey. Simon was starting to walk now, and getting into everything. The family news had filled the silence of his dorm room, but now the only sounds Derek was left with, was the quiet hum of his computer and the music he'd turned down to better accommodate the phone call. He turned the volume back up to a comfortable background level and checked the time. He had another hour before his room mate and fellow Gael came back from a team outing and Derek wanted to finish his project in time to get a decent start on his History paper before the other boy returned. Steven was rarely subdued and while he made an excellent left wing, he was kind of a pain to be around if one wanted to focus on studying.

If asked nearly two years ago, when Derek had started at Queen's, he would have professed to be thrilled to be rid of Casey's uninvited presence during his time at Uni. But then, he'd been so sure that the college experience would be much the same as it had at JSTHS, and hadn't that been a kick in the pants? It had taken no more than one semester for Derek to realize how much bigger of a pond Queen's was, and how much bigger the fish were, too. He was good as a hockey player; a terrific center, but there were others who were better. It was Spring semester of his Sophmore year before Derek was even allowed to be a starter. It took less time to recognize the fact that Casey had her own thing going on. She'd declared herself a double major from the start and between that, her placement on the dance team, and her various extra curriculars, she rarely had any time to bully Derek into studying or calling home, or just simply harassing him. It was jarring to see how Casey had gone from life with Derek to college life with**_out_** him, especially since she didn't seem to even notice or care.

She actually chided him when he'd tried a few pranks to get her attention-called him out in front of a group of people she'd been studying with and explained seriously and a little tiredly that she was _busy_ and she really didn't have time to deal with him right then. "I'll catch up with you later, okay?" she'd said soothingly, looking at him with something akin to pity.

It was with dawning horror that he recognized how it might look between them from the outside. A guy trying to get the attention of his crush. He had scoffed and backed off immediately. "Nevermind Spacey. Go do your keener thing," he'd replied a little forcefully.

Casey had sighed but let him go and that had been it.

That really **had** been it, because they seemed to drift apart after that. He passed her in the quad, but they didn't really talk. She saw in him the dining hall but never approached him, choosing to sit with her own friends and classmates, or alone with her nose in a textbook. They ran into each other on accident in the athletic building, each coming from their own practice, but all Casey asked was how practice had gone for Derek, and what time to meet at the Prince for their trip home to see the family. And while they shared the same family and Derek watched while she enthused about life a Queen's, it seemed like the girl who he had shared a wall with for nearly four years in his family's home had become a virtual stranger over the years. He could count on one hand the amount of times he'd actually spoken to her this semester, much less seen her, and still have fingers left over.

It had fallen to Derek to keep his own grades up to keep his place on the team, and once he got over the weirdness that was no longer Casey harping on him, he settled surprisingly well into decent study habits (though he had to bribe some of the nerdiest guys he could find, to help get him started and scheduling tutoring sessions was like planning for a sneak attack. God forbid someone would mistake him for an _actual_ keener).

He was just about finished with his editing when bellowing in the hall outside his room pulled his attention from the screen in front of him. As it got progressively closer, Derek realized he could make out the voice belonging to Steven...who apparently thought drunken karaoke wasn't just for sorority sisters and desperate divorcees. Double checking the time, he swore softly and saved his progress just as the rapping on the door cut through the room. Steven was back early, which usually meant he'd been kicked out and cut off of where ever the team had previously been.

Sighing, he opened the door and saw John, one of the smallest guys on the team, struggling under Steven's exuberant mass. Derek almost felt a moment of pity for the kid. Steven wasn't the largest guy they knew by far, but he had a good four inches and a solid thirty pounds on the younger man, all of it leaning pretty heavily on John as the left wing continued his enthusiastic singing, at least until he caught sight of Derek, and greeted his roommate with a boisterous hello and a heavy clap on the shoulder. Between the three of them, they maneuvered Steven to his bed and Derek settled the waste bin next to the bed where Steven could ralph (heh, mental note: check on Ralph) and grabbed one of Steven's sports drinks from their mini-fridge, forcing his roomie to drink before grabbing some things to work on his paper elsewhere.

Despite the later hour, the campus wasn't actually dead and Derek nodded a few times to people he knew as he crossed the area to head to the library.

As fate had it, he caught Casey coming out, looking tired and sluggish. She offered him a small smile and held the door for him as he passed. "Monthly phone call?" she asked, knowing their family's new familiar routine of just checking on Derek once a month.

"Yeah," he agreed, nodding in her direction. "Bi-weekly?"

"Yeah," she parroted. "Simon's getting big."

"Yeah."

She heaved a sigh. "I gotta get going. I wanna sleep before my six am."

Startled, Derek looked at her sharply. "Who the hell has a six am class?" he cried.

Casey shook her head. "That's my workout group," she informed him.

Derek shot her a disbelieving look. "You actually convinced some poor saps to form a six am workout group?"

"Actually," she admitted with a shrug, "they invited me to join them."

And made her all the more tired for it, if the dark circles under her eyes was any indication. "Don't you ever say 'no' to any of these groups?" he asked before he could help himself.

"I must've used them all up on you," she teased.

And wasn't that such a fucking story of their damn lives? It hadn't occurred to him until just then, that maybe Derek had kinda missed Casey...just a tiny bit. She'd said 'no' and had apparently meant it. He'd been so sure that whatever messed up thing they'd had as high schoolers hadn't been just a one-sided thing, he seen the look in her eye when they bantered and fought. But the knowledge that Casey had let-whatever it was-go sat bitterly in his chest.

"Yeah, must have," he agreed just a shade too dark. "Well, I gotta get in there," he stated, jerking his head towards to library interior. If Casey wanted to quit, fine, but Derek was sure as hell not going to be left standing alone. "I'll see ya around."

Casey nodded looked faintly surprised but nodded once. "Good luck," she offered.

"Bye," he replied.

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><p><strong><em>Please Review.<em>**


	8. Cunning

**DISCLAIMER:** You know how this will go. I don't own the show.

**A/N: **Inspired by _**shyesplease**_'s Speak Italian to Me. She gave me the look through and the okay. I hope you agree.

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><p>It's Lizzie, of all people, who gives him the idea and even the reason to sign up for the class. "Why don't you take a foreign language course?" she offers, as she, Marti and Edwin sit with him and Casey at the dining room table at home, reading through the next semester's class offerings for Queen's.<p>

Casey scoffs. "Derek already speaks a foreign tongue: his own."

Derek smirks, leaning across the table at her. "The girls like my foreign tongue, Case."

She wrinkles her nose at his suggestive tone and tilts back. "Gross, Derek."

They're on Christmas break and only have a few days left to register for the Spring semester classes, which predictably has Casey in a tizzy since she and Derek haven't sat down to agree on which classes they were going to take together. It was deal they settled on in their terms of agreement on how to deal with going to school, but not actually living together anymore. It works knowing they only have to see each other a few times a week in class rather than all the time, if they so choose. Since it's been made tremendously clear to Derek that failing equals being kicked off the hockey team and losing his scholarship and Casey refuses to carry him through his classes,he actually pays attention and does the amount of studying needed to keep his grades up. At least Casey offers her notes to him, since hers are always far more detailed than his. As evidenced by most of the table being covered in course catalogs and papers filled with Casey's precise handwriting for possible schedules and class routes for the both of them. Derek doesn't know what about this his younger siblings find so fascinating, but they insist there's nothing on tv and no one else apparently has anything better to do than add their two cents.

Lizzie shrugs and looks over his prospective time tables, easily ignoring the taunting as one who's dealt with it for so long. She continues, "Either way, you still need three more credits. Foreign language seems like it would be perfect for someone like you."

Casey actually snorts at this. "Puh-leeze," she says, crossing her arms.

"Someone like Smerek?" Marti repeats in confusion, cocking her head to the side.

Edwin wrinkles his forehead in thought. "Didn't...Derek almost fail Spanish?" he asks hesitantly in a similar tone to Marti.

"Yes," Casey immediately answers.

Derek ignores the chatter as he studies his blonde step-sister for a beat. "Explain."

Lizzie shrugs carelessly but offers him a knowing smile. "You like secrets." Unsaid is _the better to keep a secret in another language_.

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><p>Once that box of worms is opened, Derek really gives some thought on all the practical applications he could use it. His films for one, learning dirty words in another language was always fun, or using it to seduce any number of girls.. Messing with Casey (which is still a priority in his life, despite the fact that don't see each other that often).<p>

Fuck it, he's sold.

He picks Italian. He's a Venturi; it makes sense. The course is surprisingly male dominated. Derek wonders if most of the guys share similar reasons for taking the class. The Instructor is a relatively attractive middle-aged woman who emphasizes the romance about the Italian language and really breathes passion into her teaching. Derek figures most of the guys leave the class half hard.

They go through lessons at a relatively quick pace and it kinda catches him off guard that he's really getting into the course. He actually likes the language, doesn't mind the reading and translation and figures the best way to celebrate his new found enjoyment is share with Casey...by harassing her with Italian, of course. He initially thinks of leaving curse words in Italian all over her stuff, but discards the idea quickly. That's not only boring and completely overdone, but it's vulgar in a way that, crass as he is, not even Derek stoops to cussing Casey out for no reason. It does give him an idea, though...

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><p>Casey's college evening routine goes like this: dinner, dance team practice or student government meetings, shower, pj's and 2-3 hours of studying before bed. She's used to the late nights, but she still tries to keep enough time in her schedule for actual sleep. Rest is important because she still gets up at 5:30 to get ready for the day, and it really helps being able to be out of her day clothes, face washed and body cleaned, to help wind down in her dorm, even as she works at her desk. Which is good, because today's been long and it didn't help that she's had to harp on Derek about paying attention in their shared Psychology course...again. Honestly, she doesn't even know why he agreed to the class if he wasn't going to make an effort. She's warned him repeatedly that she isn't carrying him, and even though he originally expressed interest in "learning how to get into the head of other people to psych them out" (his words, not hers), he's spent the last two classes doing nothing but doodling and flipping through the textbook they she's grudgingly allowed him to share with her. Except, he's flipped through everything other than the actual section they're supposed to be on, which is annoying to say the least.<p>

Sighing, Casey settles herself at her desk and pulls out said book to skim over her notes and make sure she's got everything covered before reading a section ahead so she can move on to her paper for her Women's Lit course. It's supposed to be Derek's turn to take the book home if he wanted to study, but since he's obviously not taking the class seriously, Casey refuses to waste the time _she_ could be studying. Opening it to the bookmarked section, her eyes widen at a post-it left on the page.

_Non mi rompere i maroni_

She knows instantly it's Derek's handwriting. She doesn't know what it means, though, since she's not taking the Italian course with him, nor does she know why he left that in the book. Mentally shrugging, she sets it aside and focuses on her notes...for about ten minutes...until unbidden, she eyes the paper note again.

Why _did_ Derek leave that there?

Casey's eyes narrow in thought before she turns to her laptop to pull up Google to translate. She blinks at the result. _I do not break the chestnuts. _

"_What_?" she huffs, confused. That can't be right. Derek must have the translation wrong. She thinks back to his appalling attempts in Spanish and decides that has to be it. Still, it's a weird note...and _why_ did he leave it there? She tries to shake it out of her head and focus back on studying but the curious part of her brain keeps turning the tiny mystery over in the back of her mind until it finally becomes a distraction. She only lasts 45 minutes before she breaks down and calls Derek. Normally, she'd text, but she's used to being ignored in that fashion, and if she doesn't get an answer soon, she's going to have a whole evening of studying wasted just because Derek left some silly note laying in their book.

The phone rings three times before it finally connects. _"What, Space?" _Derek greets. (She hates Space, Space-Case, Spacey and all forms of its use, but it's definitely better than Klutzilla, so she lets it go for the most part.) The background noise is evident and a familiar clack sound seems to indicate that Derek is in the Student Centre, somewhere near the billiard tables. He likes to party, but given that he's in charge of not losing his scholarship or his place on the team, he's done a lot of scaling back in his night-life activities. Most days he can be found letting off steam after practice at the SC, mingling, before heading for his own dorm. She knows he hates when she cuts into his downtime, so she gets to the point.

"Is the post-it note in our Psychology book supposed to be there?"

_"Non mi rompere i maroni?"_ Derek spouts off, sound surprisingly smooth with the foreign words even Casey can admit she can't wrap her tongue around.

"I do not break the chestnuts?" Casey dubiously translates.

To her surprise, Derek barks out a laugh. _"Is that what you think it says?"_

"That's what **Google** says!" she defends, bristling at his superior tone.

_"Yeah? Well Google's **wrong**,"_ he tells her in that ridiculous Derek tone of his. They don't do this as much any more, since they aren't always around to annoy each other, but that tone, that timbre, calls to mind instantly the sight of Derek leaning back, all smug, tongue wrapped around his teeth and eyes rolling, like he's just won the argument.

She can't help the instinctual need to snap back. "Please, Der! Like you could ever be smarter than-"

_"Case,"_ he interrupts, sounding still far more amused and self-assured than he really should be._ "Which one of us is running words through a search engine, and which one of us is actually taking the language?" _

She hates it, but she recognizes it: the point where Derek is actually proving that he's right. It's in that sly, barely there note in his voice, where he completely knows he's got the upper hand, not through anything else but being completely in control through honest circumstances. It doesn't happen too often, but enough for Casey to be fool not to realize it. Frustrated, she hangs up.

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><p>Across campus, Derek listens to her disconnect with a grin...<p>

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><p>It takes Casey until the next day to figure out what Derek actually wrote on that stupid paper. <em>Don't break my chestnuts. <em>Which still doesn't make any sense, so she does what she does best and confronts Derek again, catching him before her last class.

"Don't break my chestnuts?" she begins hesitantly.

He crosses his arms looking entertained and impressed, like he's surprised that she's figured it out. Casey scowls.

"But what does that even mean?" she demands.

"Means 'get off my nuts,' Case. Stop nagging me." He turns away with that, leaving her standing there.

"That's so gross, Derek!" she calls after him.

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><p>Casey needs to borrow the Prince to pickup a prescription on the other side of town, the day after. It's a quick errand and Derek isn't currently using the car, so he hands her the keys after their shared Psych course.<p>

He waits until she's far enough away to shout at her, "_Si chiama Pietro e torna indietro!_"

Casey pauses and whirls back around. "What?!" she yells back. She heard him just fine, she just doesn't understand it.

Derek doesn't repeat himself, merely tossing a "_Ciao!_" over his shoulder as he heads another way.

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><p>A week later and it's getting annoying now. In the past seven days Casey has heard the most absurd idioms from Derek, none of which make much sense; some of which are very crass.<p>

"I can't believe you told him to take the class, Liz," she complains to her sister on the phone during her weekly call home.

_"Hey, I only suggested it. Derek's the one who made the choice,"_ the youngest McDonald defends.

Casey huffs out a breath. "Yeah, well, right now Derek's made the choice to bother me in Italian."

_"Maybe you should take the class too. That way you'll know what he saying,"_ her sister advises.

"No way!" she insists. "Half the stuff he's told me is really disgusting and juvenile. I don't think I _want_ to really understand what the rest of it means."

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><p>The next Gaels game is a home game and although she still doesn't get it or care for the violence, Casey goes to watch for lack of anything better to do then. Derek's finally gotten past his superstition stage, but not his nervous stomach. Casey calmly waits outside the changing room with a can of ginger ale and some saltines. They found out during freshman year, Derek could actually hold a minor amount of food down after he threw up, if there was something to settle his stomach quickly. Casey can't believe George never discovered this before, because according to Derek, he feels better about playing after the little remedy.<p>

He's paler a little shaky when he comes out, but that's nothing new. They don't speak until he's guzzled most of the can, holding the rest of it up to his already perspiring forehead in an effort to cool off. "Thanks," he rasps, reaching for the saltines and cramming a few in his mouth before finishing the rest of his drink.

"You'll be fine," Casey assures him, as she catches his gaze leading towards the ice.

"_Il culo alla balena_, right?" he chuffs, looking to her for confirmation.

"Sure," she agrees quickly. Her suspicion rises at the dark delight on his face. "Wait! What did I just agree to?"

"You wished me luck," Derek insists. His colour is already looking better as he clasps a hand to his chest in a mocking fashion. "Thoughtful of you, Space. Really sweet."

She levels him with a flat glare. Knowing him, that's not exactly the direct translation. "What does that phrase _actually_ mean?"

He grins. "In the whale's ass."

"What?! Der-_ek_! That is so disgusting! How is that supposed to mean 'good luck'?"

Casey doesn't get any further than that, because the rest of the team starts coming out of the changing room. "Come on, Venturi, quit flirting with McDonald!" the captain barks, ignoring the two spluttering. "We got a game to win!"

Derek presses his empty can into Casey's hand to take the helmet and stick being shoved at him. "Gotta go, Space!"

Casey rolls her eyes.

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><p>It's a win for the home team and she's not surprised to see Derek taking the time afterwards to engage with a few puck bunnies. He's murmuring Italian to a few, who giggle and write their numbers on his arm.<p>

She's not impressed and it shows on her face when he disengages himself from his harem. She walks him back to the changing room, because as soon as he's showered, Casey's taking him for pizza on George's dime (also part of their terms of agreement).

Derek correctly interprets her expression and offers a salacious grin while showing her his arm full of digits. "I told ya, Space: girls love my foreign tongue," he says with a chuckle. At her eye roll, he leans in closer, one hand on the locker room door. "You could say I'm a cunning linguist..."

The words register, making Casey turn bright red. "Der-ek! Eww!" She shoves his sweaty body towards the door. "Go wash your mouth out, too!"

Derek's only response as he pushes through the door is laughter.

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><p><strong>Like it? Loathe it? Let me know! I depend on your feedback to know how I'm doing, and if I'm going too far in OOC-land. I also am open to suggestions on other scenarios. All it takes is a review from you!<strong>


	9. Frustration and Beds

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own a damn character here and we all know it.

**A/N: **Of course thanks goes to **_sheyesplease_** for the look through. Also, there is an overabundance of commas. I felt them necessary. Apologies if D/C seem OOC, I'm in a fluffy mood.

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><p>Casey hates her new mattress. <em>Hates<em> it.

The extra long twin at Queen's is not anything like her soft double at home. The sound of the plastic covering on the mattress is only muted by the egg crate and pillowtop cover she tries to enhance it with. Still, to no avail she can hear the covering and padding of the thing, anyways, and it makes for three weeks' worth of restless nights.

They haven't really talked, except for two quick chats to make sure the other is breathing and going to class and keeping contact with the fam, but somehow; without any reasonable explanation, Casey feels like she can complain about this to Derek and get that weird understanding only they can reach.

Except, as it turns out, Derek doesn't understand her problem, because after he hesitantly lets her in his dorm (after making sure no one saw them together), he listens to her rant with unusual silence, before leading her to his bed...

...only to show off a very familiar piece...

"How the HELL did you manage that?!" she cries, forgoing her (self-imposed) no-cursing rule.

Derek merely shrugs with that super annoying self-satisfied look and utters "What Derek Venturi wants, Derek Venturi gets," in that smug tone she's been so used to hearing.

It's not fair. Here's she's been for the last few weeks, trying to fit into this ridiculously huge campus with all its classes and activities and she has to be stuck with this completely awful standard issued dorm mattress and her step-brother has somehow managed for his own bedding to replace the original Uni offerings.

Casey is **_this_** close to tears and apparently it shows, because Derek's got that really super alarmed face, before he slings an arm around her shoulders and hauls her into the bed with him.

It's not filled with the classic unwashed-male-scent, or the usual warmth of his previously occupied body, but it feels familiar for once. It's something that Casey clings to...she hates to say this or even admit it, but here, in his illicit bed, Casey feels a little bit like she's home now...

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><p><em><strong>Please Review.<strong>_


	10. Focus (where it is and where it ain't)

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own anyone you recognize. Nor do I own Queen's.

**A/N:** This is more of a blurb than a chapter scene, but it's been on my mind for a while and **_OopsyDasey_** (aka **_shyesplease_**) thought it was okay to post.

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><p>"Here comes the new batch."<p>

Derek looks up from his spot on the bench; casually tightening his laces, to Sam, and then following his line of sight out to the new kids on the ice, hoping to play Gael hockey this year.

"Were we ever that green?" Sam wonders aloud. They're Juniors now, and Freshman year seems so long ago.

Derek snorts. "Speak for yourself," he jokes. "I'm a Hockey God, remember?" His high school self-appointed title may have dropped in usage since Derek realized during his second week of practice just how much more effort it was gonna take to be up to par, and just how much bigger the college pond was, but it still remained a lingering joke between the two of them.

"Oh, right," Sam drawls sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "How could I forget?"

Derek stands. "Come on, let's go see how much work we've got cut out for us." He's seen the incomers' stats, now it's time to see what they can do.

What it looks like they're doing though, is staring at Casey, who's sitting close to the home bench, doing her homework.

She's agreed to give her roommate the dorm for the night, for a visiting boyfriend, which means Casey's taking the couch in Derek & Sam's suite when practice is over. She's not paying any attention to the ice, whatsoever, but even from his spot, Derek can swear he sees drool practically coming out of freshman Loren's mouth.

Derek just shakes his head.

As the team runs drills, it's easy to tell who's been working out over the off-season and who's gonna need to be whipped into shape. Derek exchanges a couple of smirks with some of the other teammates as they watch the freshmen run suicides.

"Looks like Loren's still got his eye on your girl, Venturi," Michael St. John chuckles.

Derek lets out an amused snort as he tracks the boys on the ice. "For all the good it's gonna do him. He's gonna wear himself out too quick trying to show off and Case isn't gonna pull her nose out of that book until it's time to go home."

Funny how three years ago he'd be fervently denying that Casey was his ANYTHING, let alone his girl, instead of actually focusing on the new recruits with the team Captain. Besides, it's not like the whole team doesn't know the truth anyways. He proves correct about Casey anyways. She only glances up once when the coach uses his whistle for the first time, and then promptly goes back to her studying after tossing a quick wave Sam's way. She doesn't even notice Loren. Derek almost, almost feels bad for the kid.

She only looks up at the end and she, Sam and Derek make their way to the Prince.

Loren watches them go.

"You're outta luck, kid," St. John warns the kid affably.

"She's not available?" the boy asks, failing miserably to sound not completely lovesick.

"Not to you," the Captain says.

The younger boy frowns. "She with Venturi?"

"Yeah," Micheal agrees with a smirk. "She is." It's true anyways, even if the answer isn't exactly accurate to the question Loren implies. At least, not yet.

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><p><strong><em>OopsyDasey<em>** seems to think Casey would have a thing or two to say about the presumption, but what Casey doesn't know won't hurt her. Don't you agree?

**_Please Review._**


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